


A Hot Meal for a Hot Mess

by unshrinkingviolets



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Also Sharky is here as the Voice of Reason, College AU, Cooking, F/F, Human AU, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jasper is kind of a mess, None of this is based on any of my lived experiences, Peridot is kind of obnoxious, She's still Sharky tho, What else is new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unshrinkingviolets/pseuds/unshrinkingviolets
Summary: After a series of disappointing lunches, Jasper determines to impress her math tutor by making dinner for her, in an absolutely platonic gesture of friendship that is wholly devoid of any complicated feelings that might make things Weird.





	1. Eggplant Parmesan

It absolutely baffled Jasper that the biggest nerd she’d ever met didn’t know how to cook. 

It didn’t add up at all: how could something that involved opportunities to obsess over equipment, technique, efficiency, organization, and authenticity fail to appeal to somebody who voluntarily read journals on electrical engineering and claimed to have modeled a good chunk of 1780s France in Lego? 

But of course spending four minutes on your phone and having somebody bring you something hot twenty minutes later was an awful lot simpler if you were trying to do vector calculus or wrap your head around fluid dynamics. Terribly childish, perhaps, and showing a definite lack of self-reliance and life skills, but simpler. 

Never mind. She liked Peridot (as a math tutor and a friend, of course, nothing more) and after yet another disappointing lunch in one of the campus cafes she’d firmly insisted on cooking her a good dinner of real food and Peridot had shrugged carelessly and told her to come over on Friday after she was done with classes. 

It was an early evening in late March, with the sun coming in at right angles and turning everything gold, almost making up for the drabness of the dormant grass and foul piles of icy slush along the curbs. The light blazed off the windows of the house Jasper was walking towards, an enormous Victorian with two bare maples in the front lawn. Not in the worst shape, recently painted, with the usual collection of bikes and lawn chairs on the front porch. The steps and the floorboards creaked as she stepped up to the front door, set down one of the grocery bags she was carrying, and pushed the buzzer for Apartment D. 

Peridot’s voice was even scratchier through the intercom speaker. 

“Yeah, what?” 

“It’s Jasper. D’you - do you want me to come up, or . . . ?”

“You can come up. Stairs are on your right, it’s the door in front of you at the top.” 

The front door lock buzzed and Jasper stepped inside. 

Whoever had owned the house in the early 70’s was very into knotty pine paneling, which covered almost every part of the hallway and the stairs and seemed to have absorbed a couple of decades of cigarette smoke. The stairs squeaked resignedly under Jasper’s boots. 

She stepped into an unnervingly tiny room at the top of them, which barely contained a coat rack and a ratty armchair.. Jasper had to do an awkward shuffle as she backed into a corner so Peridot could get the door closed and locked again. She stared at Jasper expectantly. 

After a tense moment Jasper just said “Is this it?” and Peridot said “No, of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” and Jasper said “So where’s the rest of it,” and Peridot sighed and rolled her eyes and said “Behind you, obviously.” It wasn’t obvious at all, but there was another flight of stairs leading up from the corner Jasper had wedged herself in, and she started up them before Peridot interrupted her by saying “Well you could at least take your shoes off before you get slush everywhere.” 

Jasper was questioning some of her choices when she finally came to the top of the stairs in a surprisingly open loft, with its ceiling sloping up to the center and skylights letting in the last of the evening sunlight. It was spare, but it was casually cluttered with bits of Projects and things, and that made it cozy and welcoming. Much more so than its occupant could be. Jasper finally set down both grocery bags and looked around for the kitchen. 

She realized that she was standing in it already, sort of. It was exceptionally compact, as though the idea of putting it in the apartment at all had slipped the mind of whoever was doing the remodeling and they’d panicked. The stove, sink, and fridge were wedged together into an alcove with a small pantry to the left of it. She couldn’t see any pots or pans or utensils or really anything sitting out, and the thought occurred to her that maybe she was going to have a much more challenging evening than she’d imagined. 

She felt Peridot staring at her and asked hesitantly “D’you - do you have, um . . . things? I brought a knife, but-” 

Peridot cut her off and ducked in front of her, pulling the oven door open and hauling out a nested set of saute pans and skillets piling them on the stove. 

“My mom,” she huffed, bending down to fish out a small saucepan from the lower oven rack, “Really really really wants me to learn to cook too, so I have all this stuff, because she won’t stop giving it to me.” 

“Oh. I-”

“I don’t even know what half this stuff is, and I don’t care, but if you can use it, like go to town, I guess.” Peridot was yanking open drawers and pulling out spatulas and whisks and a meat tenderizer, dropping them in the sink with careless contempt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you - um - “ 

Peridot was staring up at her, arms akimbo. 

“You’re not my mom,” she said. 

“I - am  _ not _ .” 

“So you don’t have to annoy me about not cooking, or not learning how, or whatever!” 

Jasper’s face started to settle into a scowl.

“No, I don’t, but you could have just told me that before I came over and dragged all this stuff across town.” 

It took Peridot a second to figure out what to respond with, and by the time she did Jasper had already turned to leave. 

“I didn’t mean - you don’t have to leave!” 

“Don’t I?” growled Jasper, starting down the stairs. 

“Wh - come back! I want you to  _ cook _ , I just don’t want you to  _ teach  _ me!” 

Jasper barked out a laugh. 

“Per, you can’t just yell at me and expect me to still cook for you. I’m - ha -  _ I’m not your mom _ .” She found her boots and leaned against the ratty armchair to pull them on. 

“I thought you liked me!” Peridot was giving her an accusing look from the bottom of the stairs, her eyebrows scrunched down behind her glasses and a sharp pout to her lips. Jasper was very annoyed at herself for thinking it was cute. She collected herself and spoke mostly to the floor as she did up the laces of her boots. 

“I do like you, and I’m sorry I was annoying you about learning to cook, but I can’t tell if you actually want me here or not.” 

“I do!” 

“Okay, well, cool, but -” 

“I just don’t want you to teach me to cook! I don’t  _ have _ to learn!” 

Jasper let out an exasperated growl and pinched the bridge of her nose. She faced Peridot again.

“You don’t have to do anything! I - look, I know I probably harp on stuff like that, but I - I just wanted to spend time with you outside classes, that’s all! And you were really helpful with tutoring so I thought maybe I could help you learn something, or we could at least eat something good for once and get to know each other better!” 

Peridot seemed slightly stunned. Her face took a moment to figure out what it was going to do next and settled on shifting her eyebrows halfway up her forehead and dropping her mouth open. 

“Is this a date?” she whispered, hoarsely.

Jasper’s eyebrows rocketed up to match Peridot’s as the bottom dropped out of her stomach. 

“What! No, it’s not a date! I don’t - I’m not that -” 

“Wait - you’re  _ not  _ gay?!” 

“No!” It was a denial out of habit as much as anything else. Jasper felt her voice shake a little. 

The eyebrows came back down again as Peridot eyed Jasper shrewdly. She stroked her chin, unironically. “Fascinating,” she said. Jasper felt terribly exposed. She wanted to run but she only had one boot laced up.

“So this whole -” Peridot’s hand circled in the air “Only wearing black and plaid and heavy boots and gushing about how seeing Cate Blanchett as Galadriel when you were thirteen had a huge impact on you and talking about women’s wrestling all the time and really wanting to cook for a girl you like  _ situation _ is entirely unrelated to you being, in fact, a lesbian or otherwise queer?” 

Jasper was crumbling under the cross-examination and could only squeak out a “Yes?”, which got a “Hmm!” in response. Jasper feebly started lacing up her other boot. 

“Um,” said Peridot “I’m sorry.” Jasper glanced up. She was looking away and fidgeting with her left earlobe. “My mom’s - difficult, to deal with, sometimes, and I was just afraid you were being the same way. And - um - I guess I don’t have as good a read on you as I thought I did. So I’m sorry I yelled at you, and stuff.” 

Jasper huffed in response. She stood up in fully laced boots, towering over Peridot and somehow feeling absolutely miniscule next to her. 

“Do you -” her voice was husky and she cleared her throat, “Does everybody think I’m a lesbian?” 

Peridot let out a slow breath, still tugging at her ear and looking at nothing. 

“I don’t know about anybody else, I just got that vibe from you, I guess. Or maybe I just hoped you’d be queer like I am, but I’m kinda bad at figuring out other people. I thought maybe you figured  _ me _ out and wanted to be friends because of that, or something.”  

Jasper’s breath was shallow and she felt something hot stinging her eyes. She sniffed heavily. She was suddenly having a great many Feelings.

***

Jasper had never been comfortable with advanced math. Adding? Great. Long division? Hell yeah. Algebra? Maybe, if you gave her some time and a few hints. Anything beyond that was like swimming in the dark, and by fall of her sophomore year of college she was so far from land that she’d broken down and asked her Intro to Trigonometry professor if there was any kind of tutoring available for really really dumb people. He reassured her that she wasn’t dumb (she didn’t believe him), and gave her an email address. The following Wednesday she’d walked nervously into a study room at the library to meet a small blonde girl with large green-rimmed glasses who, brusquely but competently, had eventually helped her scrape a C+ in the class and pass it, thereby vanquishing her math requirements. 

And that might have been the end of it, but one day at the beginning of the spring semester, Jasper was coming out of Acting II and spotted Peridot checking her phone outside the Intro to Theatre classroom. On impulse Jasper said hello, and they’d ended up going to lunch together every Tuesday and Thursday, since Acting II and Intro to Theatre met at the same time. Peridot didn’t think much of the class (she was only taking it for her Fine Arts credit requirement), but seemed interested in Jasper’s thoughts on pro wrestling as contemporary American theatre, and had a variety of opinions about Becky Lynch’s character development. And of course they complained about the food (which was perfectly fine as institutional food went, but sharply criticizing school food is an institution far more powerful than any flavor can destroy). 

At no point did they ever really talk about themselves, apart from the occasional mention of family or roommates (in the general sense that they acknowledged the existence of both of these). And this was fine. Jasper was just happy to have a friend who wasn’t a theatre kid (as much as she loved acting and stage combat, she was completely done talking about musicals and occasionally wished that Lin Manuel Miranda had been an accountant), and that was that. 

She thought about Peridot, of course. You thought about your friends when they weren’t around, that’s just what made them Friends. You thought about them at night when you were going to sleep, and how their face scrunched up when they laughed at your joke about Shayna Baszler and you almost almost cried at how good that made you feel. You thought about making dinner for them and how excited they’d be. You hoped they were thinking about you the same way. 

And then suddenly you were standing in their apartment about to cry because they  _ were _ thinking about you. They were thinking about the one thing that you tried so very  _ very _ hard  _ not  _ to think about. And you wanted so much to open up to them, and you wanted so much to run away forever. 

***

Jasper realized that her face was wet, and that her nose was starting to run. She’d always been an exceptionally snotty cryer. She gave a gurgling snort and coughed, turning away from Peridot and trying to wipe her face with her hands. 

There was a light touch at her elbow, which made her flinch. 

“Are you okay?” 

She shook her head no. 

“Do you - do you want to talk about anything?” 

Jasper managed a deep breath, pulled herself together, and faced Peridot.

“I want,” she said, “to cook dinner.” 

***

Jasper put her hair up into a ponytail. This always took some effort; she’d been growing it out for three years and it had become a mass of fluff, the impulsive bleaching of a few months prior going back to deep brown at the roots. She rolled up her sleeves neatly and carefully, and washed her hands. 

Peridot had cleared off the table in the middle of the room for prep space and stacked the pots and pans neatly to one side. Jasper had to stoop forward to really use it (which she had to do anyway, seeing as whatever cultural forces had set the height of kitchen counters never factored in that even somebody who was 6’3” might want to cook), but it worked. 

She was grateful that she’d been hedging her bets about what Peridot might actually have on hand in her kitchen. The fridge was mostly half-empty takeout containers and the cabinets had yielded an impressive collection of sauce packets and two cans of french fried onions, but other than that Jasper was working entirely out of pocket. She gloated a little bit internally about how prepared she was, and then felt bad about that. 

As a distraction from her feelings she started slicing eggplant, laying it out on a baking sheet and sprinkling it with salt. Peridot was watching intently with her nose slightly wrinkled. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten eggplant,” she said. “What’s it like?” 

“It’s good,” said Jasper, “It can get a little bitter, though, that’s why I’m salting it beforehand.”

“How’s the texture?” 

“Mm - soft? Squishy? It’s gonna be covered in sauce and cheese if that makes any difference.”

“That’s acceptable, I can handle most things with sauce and cheese on them.” 

While the eggplant was under salt Jasper started on the sauce. Slicing the onion made her start to cry again, but she felt better about it since she had an excuse, and Peridot seemed impressed by her knife skills. Once the tomatoes were simmering in the pan Jasper pulled out the most crucial ingredient (for her): a very large bottle of very cheap red wine. She rummaged in her coat pockets for her multitool and uncorked it. Peridot was aghast. 

“How’d you buy  _ wine? _ ” she demanded.

Jasper gave her a puzzled look, head cocked. 

“With money? At Aldi?” 

“But - you’re a sophomore, you’re not old enough!” 

Jasper’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Per, I’m 26.” 

Peridot’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline again. 

“YOU’RE TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD?” 

“Yes?” 

“ _ How? _ ” 

“I - I was born 26 years ago?” 

“Yeah but -” 

“I’m a non-traditional student, or whatever! I couldn’t leave - I couldn’t - I just waited, that’s all!” 

“Hmm. Well, I don’t have wine glasses.” 

“How strange.” 

“Will plastic cups be okay?” 

“I mean, this was four dollars, so yeah.” 

And so they toasted and drank. Peridot’s face went through several stages of revulsion that made Jasper giggle. 

“You okay there?” 

Peridot looked at Jasper in horror. 

“It’s bad! It tastes super bad!”  

“Ah! Yes, but it tastes bad in a distinctive way that will be complemented by eggplant parmesan.” 

“Ugh. I’ll take your word for it. How do people manage to  _ drink _ this stuff?” 

“Self-delusion.” 

Peridot didn’t finish her wine, so Jasper took one for the team and knocked it back in one go. It was time to bread eggplant. 

While she was dipping the slices in egg, flour, and breadcrumbs, Peridot watched her work in fascination. It was like being watched by a cat, although Jasper wasn’t quite as worried about Peridot snatching one of the breaded slices in her mouth and running away. 

“I can’t believe you brought all this stuff to my apartment.” 

Jasper shrugged. “I wanted to be prepared.” 

“Yeah, but, wouldn’t this have been easier at your place?” 

“Not necessarily. There’s some hockey game on tonight that Sharky wanted to watch, and that usually turns into a big pile of drunk girls screaming at the TV. Figured this’d be a little quieter.” 

“Were you in the Army?” asked Peridot, still intently watching. Jasper chuckled. 

“No, why?” 

“I - you’re really prepared for stuff, and like, organized. And you started college late. And you cook.”

“I don’t think you learn to cook in the army.”

“Then where  _ did _ you learn to cook? How do people just know how to do this stuff?”

Jasper took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could feel her jaw tensing up anyway. Peridot hadn’t noticed.

“It was just my chore, when I was growing up.” 

“Oh. Mine was always cleaning the pool and the basement. Which, I don’t even know why my mom had me do it, she could have hired somebody.” 

“Making you learn responsibility and the value of hard work, or something?” 

Peridot snorted.

“Yeah, because I wasn’t already in school 50 hours a week trying to be the smartest kid in the whole world. And I suck at cleaning pools. I hate the way they smell. And the basement was just dusty and boring all the time. Like the bar would get stuff spilled all over it, but it’s not like my mom played pool or watched TV or anything.” 

“So you had a pool  _ and _ a pool table  _ and _ a bar in your basement?” 

“Yeah, so?”

“Never realized your family was so bougie.” 

“Yeah. Well. It sounds bougie, but - never mind. I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Jasper was heating up a pan to fry the eggplant and suddenly found that the words “I grew up in a cult,” had come out of her mouth. Or - well, maybe they were just in her head, who could tell. When she turned back to the table to pick up the sliced eggplant Peridot was staring at her. 

“DId you just say you grew up in a cult?” she asked, and Jasper had to fight down the urge to bolt out the door. She took another deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“I - I guess I did.” 

“Did - what?” 

Jasper sighed and turned back to the stove. 

“I grew up in a cult, and when I was six they made me start helping in the kitchen. And also prepare for the End Times.” 

She could feel Peridot staring at her. She ignored it for a minute. Once the first batch of eggplant was sizzling away she poured herself some more wine. 

“You can quit staring at me now.” 

“It all makes sense,” whispered Peridot. 

“What.” 

“That’s why you never talk about your family and you’re older and you’re always prepared for everything and you’re still in the closet! You were in a cult!” 

Jasper gave her a dead-eyed stare and went back to frying. 

At long last the eggplant parmesan made it into the oven. Peridot got cranky about how involved cooking could actually be and rifled through her leftovers. She was eating cold crab rangoons while sitting on her bed, occasionally glancing at Jasper, who was sprawled over the well-loved loveseat checking her phone. The cup and bottle of wine was readily at hand. 

“Are you gonna drink that whole thing tonight?” 

Jasper leaned her head back and looked at Peridot upside down. 

“Depends, are you having any?”

“No, it’s gross!”

“Then, yeah, probably.” 

“But it’s so much!” 

“Peridot, I can handle myself. I’m gonna be eating anyway, it’ll be fine.” 

Jasper went back to scrolling Instagram. A small thought bubbled up that maybe one of Peridot’s parents was an alcoholic and drinking an entire bottle of wine in front of her was making things uncomfortable. Another thought bubbled up that maybe she didn’t, strictly speaking, have to drink the whole bottle. A third thought suggested that if she  _ did _ drink the whole bottle, she might be able to come out to Peridot. And that might be nice. She refilled her cup. 

After what Peridot insisted was hours they sat down at the kitchen table with plates piled high and dug in. Peridot chose to pair her eggplant with Mountain Dew, a choice that Jasper was personally repulsed by, but she let it go. It was delicious, of course, salty and savory and acidic, warm and chewy and filing. They ate half the pan between the two of them, and Peridot said it was the best thing she’d tasted in years. 

When they were finished, Jasper stood up and stretched, belching luxuriously and making Peridot laugh. She grinned and bowed, then ducked into Peridot’s unbelievably tiny bathroom to pee. Washing her hands and looking in the mirror she saw that her face was flushed. Her head was starting to hum just a little bit too. This was easily her favorite part of drinking, the moment when she first started to feel buzzed, and like she was bolder, and saucier, and capable of all manner of outrageous things. 

She strolled out of the bathroom and flopped down on her back on Peridot’s bed, stretching again and humming contentedly. This got an indignant “Hey!” out of Peridot. 

“Get out of my bed, you big weirdo.” 

Jasper flashed her a grin.

“Make me.” 

“Fine.” Peridot grabbed one of Jasper’s ankles and started to pull with all her strength, which didn’t amount to much. Jasper started giggling. An evil gleam came into Peridot’s eyes.

“Oh, are you -” she brushed a hand over Jasper’s bare foot “ - ticklish, Jasper?” 

Jasper giggled even harder. Peridot tickled again and Jasper let out a yelp. Peridot dived forward onto the bed, attacking Jasper’s armpit, which meant that both her hands got clamped under Jasper’s arm while Peridot was still wiggling her fingers and making Jasper gasp with laughter. 

“I’ll stop if you admit you’re gay!” shouted Peridot, triumphantly, and Jasper wheezed a “Fuck you,” in response. Peridot wrenched a hand free and darted it behind Jasper’s left ear, which got Jasper to shout “OKAY! FUCK! I’M GAY! JESUS!” and yank herself up off the mattress. Peridot shrank back and squeaked “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

Jasper always hated getting what she wanted. It always felt wrong, somehow. And she’d wanted to come out to Peridot, right? That’s why she’d put up with Peridot’s cross-examinations, why she’d finished the wine during dinner, why she’d brazenly laid down on Peridot’s bed, why she hadn’t told her to stop tickling. She’d wanted to tell somebody, anybody, that she was gay, or a lesbian, or queer, or whatever, just -  _ something _ , for so long. And now she had. And it sucked. 

She let herself fall back onto the mattress. She looked over at an apprehensive Peridot. 

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she mumbled, and started to cry. Her nose plugged up almost immediately and she sat up again, snorting and coughing, tears streaming down her face. 

They spent ten minutes in a sniffling hiccupy silence, Jasper trying to get her breathing steady and Peridot slowly inching closer, finally laying a hesitant hand over Jasper’s, only half covering it. Jasper twitched when she felt the contact, but steadied herself. She drew a deep, shaking breath. 

“I think,” she said, voice thick, “I need to go home now.” 

***

The next morning brought rain, which was appropriate. Watching the ground turn to muck fit Jasper’s mood perfectly, and as she stood in the shabby kitchen making cafe au lait she found herself looking forward to a Saturday of feeling like absolute shit, finding a grim satisfaction in how completely fed up with herself she was. 

There were quiet footsteps on the back staircase. Jasper looked up just as Holly - Agassi? Abagnale? Agamemnon? Whatever, Holly Something, came around the corner in a professional skirt and blouse that had obviously been torn off her the night before (if the bite marks visible under her open collar were any indication). She was moving furtively and a little unsteadily with her heels sticking out of her handbag and usual updo unraveling down her back. She blanched slowly when she saw Jasper, who gave her a silent nod. Holly ignored this, resolutely striding through the kitchen and out the back door. After a few minutes Jasper heard a car start. Glancing out the window she saw a black Lexus pull away into the alley behind the house. 

“Least I’m not the only one with regrets this morning,” muttered Jasper, sipping her cafe au lait at the kitchen table and wondering if she should eat or just ride on caffeine for a while. 

Much louder footsteps on the back stairs heralded the arrival of Sharky, in yoga pants and a hockey jersey, hair an exploded birds nest, eyes still a little heavy, but with the usual self-satisfied grin on her face and a few fresh hickeys down the side of her neck. She gave Jasper a nod and rummaged in the fridge until she found an energy drink, which she cracked open one-handed, flopping into the chair on the other side of the table. She drank about half of it, belched, and gave Jasper a look. 

Jasper didn’t return it and just said “She already left, in case you’re wondering.” 

“Oh, I know.” Sharky leered at Jasper, who still didn’t look up.

“How do you even convince her to come over here? Isn’t she some stuck up trust fund bitch getting an MBA?”

“Oh, yeah, she totally thinks she’s slumming it and that she’s not in love with me, but she treats my dick like it’s her own personal god, so I figure I can put up with whatever class issues she’s got.” 

Sharky slugged back some more Rockstar. 

“You’re an inspiration to us all,” Jasper muttered. 

“I know. Hey, how’d your date with that nerd go?” 

Jasper gave Sharky a stink eye that only made her laugh. 

“It wasn’t a date,” she growled.

“Uh huh.”

“Also it was a fucking  _ disaster _ and I left my fucking knife at her place.” 

“You took a  _ knife _ ?”

“My chef’s knife, I knew she wouldn’t have one.” 

“God you’re adorable.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Nah. What went wrong?” 

“I -” 

That tension between wanting to tell and wanting to hide clutched at Jasper’s throat. 

“I - uh - I came out. To her. To Peridot. And - I hated it. I hated that I did that.” 

Sharky wasn’t grinning anymore. Actually her brow was set and she looked suddenly alert, radiating the Protective Big Sister Energy she kept on tap in vast reserves for all her friends. 

“You came out as a lesbian?” Sharky asked the question carefully. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.”

Jasper snorted. 

“Do you not believe me? She seemed to think everybody in the whole world already knew.”

“I mean - listen, Jazz, I knew you were gay the second we met, but  - that’s a big thing. You coming out.”

“How wonderful for me.”

“Well - look, I know it’s not always great. Like, believe me, sometimes it really sucks.” 

Jasper sighed. “I just - I wish she wouldn’t have pushed me into it.” 

“Pushed you how?” 

Jasper stared intently out the window, simultaneously amused and guilty. 

“She kind of kept at it all night, but I was laying on her bed and she said she wouldn’t stop tickling me until I admitted I was gay. So I did.” 

The grin was back.

“That’s fucking adorable.” 

“I guess.”

“Sorry. But - it sounds like she really hoped you’d do it?”

“I mean - yeah. I mean, she came out to  _ me _ , so I guess it was only fair.”

“Well, no, it’s still your choice, and don’t get me wrong, she should have respected that, no question, but it kinda sounds like she’s just into you.” 

Jasper sighed and sipped coffee. 

“She is. I think. She’s obviously incredibly awkward about it, but I think - she might be a little bit in love with me.” 

“Are you okay with that?” 

Jasper found herself laughing bitterly.

“Sure, why the fuck not?” 

“I don’t know, why not?” 

“I just - I let some stuff slip. Last night. I was drinking, obvs, and I told her stuff I didn’t mean to, and she did too, and I just feel like - we barely know each other, there’s obviously a lot of shit going on for both of us, and like - does that ruin it?” 

“Does it?” 

“Wh - I don’t know! How the fuck would I know that?”

Sharky waited patiently for Jasper’s sudden flashover to settle down before asking 

“Do you want to find out?” 

Jasper gave Sharky another burning glare that did nothing to the smirk on her face. Suddenly, though, the fight left her, because the answer was obvious.

“Yeah. I want that - I want that a lot.” 

The smirk settled into a warm smile. 

“Then you’ll be okay. Just tell her how you feel, and whatever happens, happens.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Sharky drained her energy drink, chucked the can carelessly over her shoulder into the recycling bin, stood up, and stretched like a feral cat. She put her hands on Jasper’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. 

“I’m proud of you, Jazz,” she said, ruffling her hair. 

“Thanks,” mumbled Jasper. 

“Alright, I gotta shower. Can’t be the friendly face of the 7/11 smellin’ like pussy and cheap cologne.” 

Sharky swaggered towards the stairs. She started up but then popped her head back into view.

“Call her. Or text her, whatever. Now.” 

“Okay?” Jasper was started to feel a little overwhelmed.

“Good. You’re gorgeous and amazing.” 

She blew Jasper a kiss and stomped up the stairs again. 

For a moment Jasper sat still, wondering if she was going to cry. She didn’t. 

She picked up her phone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Mac and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite inauspicious beginnings, Jasper and Peridot have been dating for about a month, and there's absolutely no need to panic about any aspect of that.

“Oh, hey, Jazz, one thing I do need you to do when we’re gone next weekend is invite your girlfriend over and fuck her on every piece of furniture in the house.” 

Jasper paused, hands still in hot dishwater, and took a deep, slow breath, counting to five on the inhale, holding for two, letting out for seven. Her therapist had recommended this technique as a general coping strategy, although against Sharky it felt like holding back the ocean with a cocktail umbrella. 

“Charlotte Marisol Cuaron,” she said, seething quietly, “Do you ever think about what you say before it comes out of your mouth?” 

Sharky barked out a laugh  and stayed where she was, leaning against the stove. 

“I’m kidding, Jazz, you don’t have to mom-voice me.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“Positive. Although if I’m honest it wouldn’t be too out of character for her, she lost her mind when she found out I banged Holly on her couch when we were there over spring break. Lectured me about stains for like twenty minutes.” 

Jasper paused again in rinsing a plate. 

“You took Holly  _ home _ with you?” 

“Yeah, she wanted to go, actually. I think she thought it’d be like a cultural experience or whatever?” 

“She thought  _ Ankeny _ would be a cultural experience?” 

“Beats the hell outta Naperville.” 

“Sharky, a burning garbage can would beat the hell out of Naperville.”    
Sharky cackled and slapped Jasper on the shoulder. Jasper almost broke a coffee mug as a result but she still allowed herself some satisfaction. Sure, Sharky laughed at basically everything even when it wasn’t funny, but it still felt good to make it happen. 

“Anyway - my point is get your little nerd over here and show her a good time! Make steak and lobster or whatever and then make sweet love on the coffee table. Or - actually, don’t do that, Chip got suplexed into it while we were watching Monday Night Raw and I’m pretty sure we broke one of the legs. But like there’s the kitchen table, that’s good and sturdy, and your bed’s nice I guess, if you’re into that, and-”

“I get it, Sharky, thank you.” 

“You better get it. If I find out you didn’t get freaky over the weekend you’re gonna be in big trouble, young lady.” 

“I thought we weren’t mom-voicing at each other. Also I’m older than you.” 

“So? Holly is too, and I mom-voice her all the time.” 

***

An hour later, once the dishes were done and the kitchen was clean and Sharky had explained Holly’s mommy kink in exquisite detail, Jasper locked herself in her room to nervously, yet casually, text Peridot. 

_ Hey Peri you wanna come over this weekend?  _

_ Will other people be in the house?  _

_ Nope  _

_ Then yes _

Jasper let out a shaky breath of relief. 

_ Should I be prepared to sleep over?  _

Relief was quickly supplanted by terror. Jasper set down her phone so she could pace for a moment. She wanted to answer yes, but would that be too much? Too forward? Peridot offered but she didn’t want to feel like she was pressuring her, but of course the last month had gone pretty well despite inauspicious beginnings, and maybe it was a reasonable point in the relationship to consider the possibility of one party or the other sleeping over - even if it was just sleeping! No pressure! It didn’t have to be a sex thing! - but was she hoping this would happen just to please Sharky? That didn’t matter, right? That wasn’t - 

 

_ I don’t have to sleep over if you don’t want me to  _

And then Jasper couldn’t text fast enough.

_ No I do want that please do that let’s do that _

_ :3c  _

_ Okay  _

_ Friday after classes?  _

_ Sounds good!  _

Jasper put her phone back down and took seven deep breaths in a row, counting through every last one. 

***

“Jasper, I think that’s inside out.” 

Jasper snapped into focus and looked down at the hem she’d been sewing. 

“What?”

“It’s inside out, you should be sewing the hem on the other side.” 

“Oh.”

“Do you need a seam ripper?” 

Professor Larkins handed Jasper the necessary tool and Jasper resignedly started ripping out stitches. Black on black, too, on shitty polyester fabric. Why they did they need to sew all these stupid cassocks anyway? This scene was three minutes long and none of the characters ever showed up again! What was Dr. Charles’ deal? Like where the hell did he get off trying to do Broadway-scale theatre on a public school budget? And yes, generally speaking, Jasper didn’t give a shit about this show since she wasn’t in it, but now that she was ripping out three yards of black thread it was affecting her personally and that was intolerable. Also the script was bad and the reason some of these Shakespeare plays were lost is because they sucked, and if something hasn’t been produced for two centuries or whatever  _ that’s probably a sign that it is not actually a good play, you extravagantly pretentious weirdo.  _

And so and on and so forth. Jasper was dimly aware that she went down rabbit holes of complaint about nothing too easily, but it was proving a nice change from the thing that was distracting her from sewing in the first place: the great and terrible question of what to make the great and lovable Peridot for dinner? 

Jasper knew she’d been impressed by the eggplant parmesan. Obviously, how could she not be? And, sure, there was no expectation that Jasper would have to top herself, but there was also the expectation that she would 110% do exactly that. Cooking was the one area where she felt like she had some control over the world and she was damned if she wasn’t going to flaunt it. Technical skill, of course, was only part of the equation - cooking for someone else was about understanding their needs, their desires, the things that made them feel at home. It was a way to express to someone that you saw them, and understood them, and loved them, even if it was too dangerous to say it. 

Bubbling alongside this, and more readily threatening to boil over, was The Wine Issue. 

Peridot never said anything specific, it seemed to be a deeply uncomfortable subject, but enough stray details about her mother’s alcohol consumption had filtered through in conversation that Jasper was made uncomfortably aware of her own. At first she fought back against this moment of clarity - who fucking cared if that whole bottle of pinot grigio was gone and she’d only made mac and cheese? She made really good fucking mac and cheese! From scratch! Baked! She was a good cook and good cooks drink wine and anyway she was stressed out from classes and existing and being gay and, again, whomst among the creatures of God’s green earth gave a shit? 

Sharky, was whomst. 

When Jasper mentioned offhand that she thought she might have a slight drinking problem, Sharky’s eyes began to glow with Big Sister Energy and Jasper found herself enveloped in a crushing hug and the promise than anything she could do to help, she would. In practical terms this meant moscato was replaced with sparkling water in the fridge and Sharky (or the other housemates Chip and Sadie) checking in whenever Jasper was using the kitchen. Their combined outpouring of love irritated Jasper to no end, although she was damned if she would ever disappoint them.

Once Jasper finally finished the hem the right way around and left the costume shop, she had worked herself into a bit of a state that wasn’t improved by the sneaky, glacial drizzle spitting down from a battleship-grey April sky. She stomped her stompy boots a little harder than usual on her walk home and flung herself into bed in a higher dudgeon than she’d felt for ages. What even was this caring for other people/being cared for by other people bullshit, anyway? 

After fifteen minutes of being furious at everything and thirty minutes of being furious at everything in her sleep Jasper started awake and scrabbled through her pillows for her phone, opening YouTube and desperately searching, hoping she hadn’t dreamed that there was a perfect answer to at least one question and - 

A low and triumphant giggle rattled in Jasper’s chest as she found exactly the thing she was looking for. 

_ “Hey guys, welcome back to Binging with Babish, where this week we’re heading into the woods to do some campfire cooking courtesy of the Canadian cult classic Camp Pining Hearts, a true masterpiece of teen angst and impossibly elaborate outdoor meals. We’re starting with . . .”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh so there's more now?? This is gonna be a whole thing, I think, but I'll release it a bit at a time. The big challenge for the next chapter is to actually think of what the HECK the actual meal Jasper's gonna make is, although maybe I can finally justify all the time I spend watching cooking videos on youtube. 
> 
> oh and hey also - thanks for reading this and commenting and leaving kudos and that, y'all are cool


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